


The Hero

by Lavender_Menace



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Broken Bones, Depictions of Illness, Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), Emotional Hurt, Gen, Good Robbie Rotten, Head Injury, Heroism, Hospitals, Hurt Robbie Rotten, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Minor Robbie Rotten/Sportacus, Navel-Gazing, Not Beta Read, Sportacus Shouldn't Drive, Stitches, Trixie Should Not Climb Trees, Whump, Why Did I Write This?, minor character injury, not as bad as it sounds, unhealthy behaviors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25826083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_Menace/pseuds/Lavender_Menace
Summary: Robbie makes a split second decision, Sportacus drives him to the Emergency Room. They have lots of guilt and awkward flailing
Relationships: Robbie Rotten & Sportacus, Robbie Rotten & Trixie, Robbie Rotten/Sportacus
Comments: 15
Kudos: 106





	The Hero

**Author's Note:**

> The original working title for this was "damnit trixie" and it's essentially just Robbie Rotten whump with Sportacus having a small internal crisis

It had happened in an instant.

One moment Robbie had been slinking off from yet another failed scheme, long gray coat and fedora in hand, the next he'd been running to catch the little tricky girl as she'd plummeted from the branches of the old oak tree beside the soccer field. The idea of letting her fall didn't even cross his mind, instead he leapt to catch her steps before Sportacus, throwing himself between her and the ground on pure instinct and adrenaline.

His heart beat so loudly that he barely heard her scream.

He  _ did _ hear the bones of his arm snap as they hit the dirt. 

When the back of his head meets the ground Robbie stops feeling anything but agony.

Pain rushed in, pushing away even the sound of his heartbeat as he lay in the dust, teeth clenched and gasping. For a few long seconds there was nothing but white hot agony. Then slowly the world came back to him

The first thing that he heard was Tricky calling his name, her voice shaky. She was definitely still on top of him and after a few more grasping breaths he realized that he was still holding on to her with his right arm, long fingers clenched tight around the fabric of her shirt. Sportacus was next to them, too close, Robbie could feel the hero's breath on his cheek and the steady strength of his hands as he gently pried the crying child away from him. Every movement shook his body, putting pressure on the left arm still trapped beneath his body. Robbie couldn’t hold in a soft moan of pain as the weight was taken from his chest.

Sportacus was saying something. Robbie clenched his teeth and put in the effort to listen.

"Trixie give him some space!" The hero's accent was thicker than usual, likely due to stress. Robbie blinked and tried to sit up. "Robbie how hurt are you?"

"I-" Robbie trailed off, gasping as he gingerly pulled his arm out from where it had been trapped beneath his body. He noticed that Sportacus was asking after the extent of his injuries, rather than inquiring as to whether or not he was hurt at all. Better to get to the heart of the issue rather than to ask a question with an obvious answer. After a moment’s hesitation Sportacus moved closer to wrap an arm around Robbie’s back, supporting his torso as the villain drew the injured limb close. He held it to his chest, running his fingers over the painful swelling, Robbie took a deep shaky breath. “I think my arm is broken.”

Robbie had broken bones before, his was not a career that could be considered safe. He’d landed wrong during a heist as a teenager, jammed his fingers in machinery while alone deep in his lair, even once cracked several ribs during a conflict with a superhero. Someone who had used very different methods than Lazytown’s own slightly-above-average-hero. 

It wasn’t that he was certain, Robbie was no medical professional, but the pulsing red hot pain coming from his arm was familiar. Between his arm and the persistent ache in his head Robbie knew that he would not be simply slinking away from this incident. 

Sportacus sucked in a breath, his blue eyes wide. The children muttered amongst themselves, just far away enough to be out of the way. To Robbie they were an unwanted peanut gallery, if he was to be injured and vulnerable he’d rather do so without an audience, but Sportacus was currently too preoccupied to chase them off and frankly Robbbie didn’t have the energy to do so himself. Adrenaline pumped through his system, clearing his mind and dulling the pain. As anxiety built up Robbie could feel his jaw begin to twitch in a familiar tic, he pushed the urge aside and abruptly he tried to stand. 

“Whoa!” Sportacus let him go, flipping into a standing position with his hands outstretched, ready to catch Robbie if he wavered. Robbie’s teeth were clenched, brows furrowed as he steadied himself. He kept his arms tucked against his chest, one supporting the other as he hunched forward, steady but pained. 

“Robbie.” Sportacus began again. “I think you need to go to the hospital.” Robbie heard the children gasp but ignored them, growling at Sportacus instead. 

“ _ Thank you _ Sportaobvious.” He hissed, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his neck. When had he started sweating? The entire afternoon had become something of a blur. The world spun around him for a few moments and he relaxed his good arm just enough to reach up and probe the back of his head. Not sweat, blood. He must have hit a rock when he landed. Robbie glanced at the brats, simultaneously glaring at them and counting their heads, making sure that every child was whole and accounted for before he wobbled off toward his lair. 

“Wait Robbie!” Sportacus jogged after him, leaving the children in Stephanie's capable hands with one last calming gesture. “Where are you going? I just said that you needed to go to a hospital!” The hero seemed upset, for a moment Robbie wondered if it was because Robbie had butted in on his role by saving Tricky, but quickly dismissed the thought. As far as he could tell Sportacus was a genuinely good person who would be happy no matter what as long as all of the brats were healthy and safe. The hero had been too far away from the oak tree for him to have caught the girl in time, he should have been grateful that Robbie was there to cushion her fall.

“I  _ am  _ going to the hospital…” Robbie grumbled, in too much pain to summon his usual dramatic fury. What did the hero expect him to do? Walk there? “My car is  _ this way _ .”

“Your car?” Sportacus looked perplexed for a moment before his expression went right back to horrified. “Robbie you can’t drive like this!” 

“Watch me!” Still running on adrenaline he marched over to the metal building that sat beneath his billboard and flipped open a mildewed plastic cover to reveal an orange button. Squinting in the sunlight he pressed it with as much petulant aplomb as he could muster. For a moment he wavered again, and Robbie decided to take a moment and lean back into the cool metal of his bunker, giving into his desire to stop moving.

“Robbie I need to check to see if you have a concussion.” He closed his eyes and ignored the hero listening instead to the mechanical whirrs and creaks as the machines in his lair sprung to work.The twin aches in his head and his arm were no longer overwhelming, but the more the pain pressed upon his consciousness the more that he wished that Lazytown had its own medical center so that he could have gotten treatment and been done with it. Robbie didn’t open his eyes again until he heard the rumble of a disguised garage door opening. 

Sportacus was still there, staring at the newly opened space with a stunned expression on his face. 

“What?” Robbie growled, quickly pushing off the wall. Too quickly. Stars popped in the edges of Robbie’s field of vision before color faded from the world and dizziness overtook him. Seeing his knees buckle Sportacus surged forward steadying him as he stumbled and Robbie whimpered as he jostled his arm against the hero’s solid chest. 

“ _ Are you okay _ ?” The expression of the hero’s face would have been hilarious if Robbie had been less dizzy.

“I’m fine.” He growled, pushing himself up again into a standing position “Fine.” The world was spinning around him as the adrenaline of his initial injury ran dry, he wanted to crawl back down into his lair and curl up into his chair, but Robbie knew that putting off treatment wouldn’t do him any good. If anything could come from rushing to the emergency room it would be that he would have access to good painkillers that much sooner. 

Sportacus leaned close, his hands never leaving Robbie’s shoulders. His blue eyes met Robbie’s with concerned intensity as the hero checked the taller man’s pupils. It was disconcerting to be looked at so closely, and Robbie shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the lack of space. His jaw began to clench again. Carefully he stepped away.

“You do probably have a concussion.” Sportacus concluded, confirming what Robbie had already suspected. It didn’t change anything.

Slowly the hero turned and his eyes flitted over Robbie’s battered purple pickup truck that the lair’s machinery had seemingly raised up from the bowels of the earth. It was more subtle than any of the vehicles that Robbie used around the town while still retaining his own signature flair. Lilac and rusted. It also had an automatic transmission, which Robbie considered a plus for highway driving, or any sort of travel that involved traffic. 

Sportacus’s gaze also lingered over the heaps of detritus that littered the floor of the garage before moving to the very back of the garage space, where there were a series of pipes that lead further down. The pipes served as Robbie’s usual entrance to the lair from behind the billboard, but even he wasn’t short sighted enough to build only one access point to his home. Redundancies were important. In a corner there was a staircase with a rusted metal rail that led deep down into the underground structure’s cavernous depths. 

The hero looked back up at Robbie’s truck, his expression turning to a thoughtful frown. Robbie knew that it wasn’t much, but it was a perfectly serviceable vehicle—he even had all of his paperwork in order—it was the only mode of transportation that Robbie owned that was entirely road legal. 

“What’s wrong with my car?” He asked when Sportacus’s expression remained unhappy. The hero seemed perturbed, and he refused to let go of Robbie, his hands still clasped steadingly around the taller man’s shoulders. 

“There’s nothing wrong with your car Robbie.” Sportacus replied, his mustache twitching with agitation. Robbie wondered if any of the brats had ever seen the hero so upset, or if this was an expression that Sportacus reserved specifically for him “But you can’t drive like this! It’s not safe!” 

“Well what do you want me to do? Do you actually expect me to walk to the ER?” He asked finally, thinking again of the warm comfortable chair that sat in the lair nearly directly beneath their feet. The hero shook his head, his expression turning from agitated to determined. 

“I’ll drive you!” Well okay.

—-

As it turned out Sportacus driving him was not okay. 

The hero funnelled the same energy into driving that he did everything else in his life, to terrifying results. As they made their way down the highway Robbie grasped the handle above his door with his good arm, his knuckles turning white from the strain. Around them cars swerved out of the way as the rusted truck sped forward, swerving in and out of lanes to pass slower drivers. Throughout this hazardous stunt driving Sportacus looked completely calm, focused intently on the road ahead of them. 

“ _ Yikes _ !” Robbie exclaimed, after one particularly near miss. “Jeez, who taught you how to drive!?”

His shoulder had slammed against the door as they swerved and jarred his arm. Robbie felt dizzy again. His jaw clenched but he didn’t really put much effort into suppressing the ensuing groan of pain. Sportacus glanced over in concern and Robbie screwed his eyes up, unwilling to watch as what he was sure would be their death hurtling toward them. 

“Keep your eyes on the road Sportadumb!” Miraculously they didn’t die. Robbie's voice must have been especially harsh because the hero slowed down noticeably. After a few moments of silent driving Sportacus spoke.

“My brother gave me a driving lesson.” The hero seemed as though he expected that statement to give Robbie comfort, but he was mistaken.

_ “One lesson _ ?” It explained things in its own horrifying way. Sportacus always behaved like some kind of alien to adult society, more of a big kid or a caricature of a superhero than a typical grownup. Robbie felt anxiety twist in his chest and took a shuddering breath. “Sportacus you need to pull over. Right now.”

“But Robbie!” Sportacus looked at him again, taking his eyes off the road as Robbie’s truck swerved wildly into another lane. It was the last straw.

“ _ Right now _ Sportacus!” Sportacus pulled over.

Cars rushed past them on the highway, and after a few deep breaths Robbie leaned over and put on the hazard lights with his good hand, pointedly ignoring that he was shaking again. If the hero beside him was staring at him with a crestfallen shamefaced expression Robbie ignored that too, instead focusing on getting his breathing under control. God his head hurt. The pain in his arm and his skull seemed to radiate throughout his entire body, wreaking havoc on his already sensitive emotional state. 

He wondered if the twist of nausea that he felt was a result of the pain or anxiety, and decided that it was likely both just in time to swing open the passenger door and retch out onto the side of the road. 

——

The rest of the trip to the hospital had been subdued. 

After Robbie had threatened to get out of the car and sit on the side of the road until he either perished or was picked up by a well meaning stranger Sportacus had bargained with him. Robbie had eventually agreed to get back into the truck on the conditions that Sportacus keep the hazard lights on, remain in the slow lane, merge as little as possible, and listen to every single suggestion on driving that Robbie gave him.

Despite this the journey had still been harrowing and by the time that they arrived Robbie had been seized by the sort of bone deep exhaustion that made every movement excruciating. Sportacus had taken one look at the taller man slumped in the passenger seat of the truck and gently scooped him into his arms, carrying him across the parking lot and through the automatic doors of the emergency room’s entrance. 

Robbie had let him. 

From then on the hospital trip had been a blur, it had taken an agonizingly long time but in that time almost nothing had happened. Enveloped by the simultaneously upsetting and monotonous sounds of the emergency room Robbie had curled up on the bed, which was shielded from the chaos by only a set of flimsy curtains that sectioned off their space and provided the bare illusion of privacy. Sportacus had stayed beside him, pulling up a chair to the hard emergency room exam bed and holding on to Robbie’s arm like a lifeline. 

In the harsh fluorescent light and hard lines of the hospital Sportacus had looked out of place, like some storybook character who had been dropped into the clinical cynicism of the real world. Robbie supposed he looked the same in his lurid purples and dramatic makeup, but he at least knew how to blend in socially; if only for short periods of time. He’d answered questions and filled out forms even through the haze of pain and exhaustion that clouded his mind. 

After the nurse’s aide had taken his vitals Robbie had laid his head back against the stiff vinyl pillow and closed his eyes. The bright lights hurt his head and the ache from his left arm pulsed through his body. He realized, as he sat, that he had never witnessed Sportacus remain so still. 

Robbie opened his eyes again, squinting at the hero. The look on Sportacus’s face was sad, pensive, as the hero stared at the floor. His hand still rested on Robbie's unhurt arm, his thumb tracing short rhythmic lines across pale skin. Robbie felt the caress pass back and forth in time with his breaths.

“Jeez Sportaflop.” He said, with every bit of his typical social grace “What’s eating you?” 

It seemed somewhat unfair that he was the one laying on a hospital bed with a splitting headache and broken bones, but Sportacus was the one who was upset. Now that they were safely off the highway Robbie was feeling decidedly neutral. He was in pain but not particularly upset; his scheme hadn’t failed any more spectacularly than usual, and now here Sportacus was, sitting as quietly in a chair. At this point in his life Robbie had learned that he had to take his victories where he could get them. 

“I should have been faster.” Over the sounds of the hospital Sportacus’s voice is barely audible. The hero's hand dropped to the bed and then fisted around the thin waxed paper that served as the exam bed’s bottom sheet, creasing the material as his knuckles turned white. Robbie found that he missed the caress despite himself.

On an impulse he reached down and gently wrapped his own long fingered hand around Sportacus’s fist. 

“You couldn’t have been faster,” Robbie said, his tone matter-of-fact and intentionally bland. “You were dealing with the other brats. Tricky shouldn’t have climbed the tree to start with.” The girl couldn’t have known that the branch perched on wouldn’t hold but some caution would have done her good. Maybe from now on she would think twice before leaving solid ground.

Sportacus didn’t look comforted, so Robbie frowned and tried again. He didn’t want to spend the entire evening with a sulking elf. 

“You can’t be everywhere at once.” This statement seemed to penetrate the hero’s head. Sportacus looked up again, meeting Robbie’s eyes as Robbie silently panicked, grasping for something to say.

"Sure you're a hero." Robbie continued, not entirely sure where he was going with the conversation. At least, he reasoned, he'd be able to blame anything he said on his head injury later. "But you're not omnipresent, looking after five horrifyingly active brats all day every day is a huge responsibility. Sometimes things are gonna happen that are out of your control." 

"But it is my responsibility." Sportacus countered, his expression more serious that Robbie had ever seen. "I'm a hero, and no one else was looking after them." 

"So remind the adults to help you watch their kids for a while! It's not like you're getting paid for childcare, or even babysitting the adults of this town for that matter." Robbie's voice was a low rasp, pitched quietly to avoid aggravating his headache.

"I'm not doing it to be paid!" Sportacus insisted. "They needed the help."

"Look, even  _ if  _ you're the big flippy hero and  _ somehow _ it's your responsibility to rescue grown adults from tripping on the sidewalk and to teach their children to be functional people, you need to understand that  _ not _ everything bad that happens in Lazytown is your fault for not stopping it." Robbie took a breath "that's just stupid."

Robbie had fought Sportacus for years now, tricking, trapping him, and generally antagonizing him whenever he felt up to it. It had become something of a hobby. In general if someone had asked him if he would relish the opportunity to make Sportacus feel ashamed Robbie would have responded with an immediate and enthusiastic  _ yes _ . As it turned out, seeing that expression on the hero’s face was far from satisfying. If anything Robbie only felt more frustrated. 

“I know.” Sportacus murmured. “I’m being silly… but it’s hard to watch these things happen. If I’d been the one to catch Trixie everything would have been fine, but I didn’t even realize that she had climbed so high, and I wasn’t there to spot for her.” The hero was still twisting wrinkles into the paper. “If I’d paid more attention than everything would have been okay.” 

Robbie let out a long breath, closing his eyes in a half hearted attempt to dull his headache. Sportacus was stubborn, and once he’d decided on something he was apparently unmovable. He tightened his hand over the hero’s strong fingers.

“You did all you could.”

They sat like that until the doctor arrived.

————-

It was past midnight by the time that Robbie was discharged. He was exhausted, well medicated, and he had blood in his hair. Even though the haze of narcotics Robbie’s head still ached dully, and his arm sat immobile in cast and sling. Sportacus looked washed out and unhappy in the lights of the parking lot. Robbie wondered how the hero would fare in the morning—he was obviously unused to being up so late.

“Are you ready to go home?” Sportacus asked, his face apprehensive. Robbie considered saying no, just to see how the hero would respond, but decided that he’d prefer to expedite the process of getting back to his lair and chair as much as possible. 

“Yeah.” He said instead, “Just go slow this time Sportaspeed. No one will be on the road this time of night so it should be easier.” As long as they didn’t run into any drunks. Or wildlife. Robbie frowned and resolved to stay awake through the entire trip in order to act as a second pair of eyes for the hyperactive hero.

As they turned out of the parking lot and onto the road Robbie relaxed slightly, realizing that the streets were indeed almost empty. Any cars that buzzed about late at night in town thinned out until Sportacus was driving them down the deserted rural highway. The hero kept to the fast lane and Robbie let him. Instead he stared out onto the road, halfheartedly scanning for deer or kamikaze raccoons. The silence inside the cab was peaceful, interrupted only by the rhythmic tapping of Sportacus’s fingers on the wheel as the hero fidgeted.

"How are you going to dress yourself?"

"Excuse me?" Robbie asked, caught between baffled and mortified by the sudden question.

"With the cast." Sportacus clarified, his fingers tapping more quickly. Robbie could see a blush rising on the hero's cheeks in the rearview mirror. "How are you going to get dressed with your arm in a cast?" 

"I'll manage." Robbie replied, relieved. He thought of his usual method of dressing himself and felt confident that he'd have no trouble with it as long as the dizziness went away. You didn't need two arms to spin around—not that the hero knew that. 

"Are you sure?" Sportacus asked. "I can come down and help you get into your pajamas once we get home." Now Robbie was blushing too, he could feel it. The image was mostly horrifying but also slightly tempting. 

"N-no thank you!" The stuttering was unavoidable, he was nervous and exhausted and in pain. Robbie's good hand clenched and unclenched in his lap and he could tell that he'd pulled his face into a grimace yet again."I will be  _ fine _ ." 

The hero nodded reluctantly.

"Okay."

"Just keep your eyes on the road."

"Okay Robbie." 

The moon was huge and hung low over the highway, Robbie leaned back against the truck’s ragged bench seat and continued to watch the road, his ears trained on the rumble of the engine and the sound of tires against the asphalt. He was careful not to press the cut on the back of his head against anything that might disturb his wound or the two tiny stitches holding it together. 

The stitches probably hadn’t been necessary; any scar would have been covered by his hair after all, but head wounds tended to bleed a lot and Robbie had had enough pain medication by the time they’d been offered that not getting any dirtier had seemed like a good enough reason. 

He planned to cut them out on his own in a week or so with a sterilized pair of tweezers. Robbie already had the mirrors in his bathroom set up so that he could see his head from every angle and it wasn’t worth another hospital trip to get them professionally removed. Robbie had taken out his own stitches before. 

Sportacus would have probably been horrified if he knew, but Robbie didn’t plan on telling him. 

“We’re about a minute from our exit.” Robbie knew the way by heart. Even after he’d moved to Lazytown he’d left often enough to know his way back. The route between his lair and Busy City had been well travelled, especially during the first year or so. After a while he’d simply grown too lazy to make the trip, but the highway hadn’t changed. 

“Okay Robbie.” He made the turn just slightly too quickly, but Robbie didn’t comment, didn’t even flinch. Reacting would have been too much effort at this point. Instead he relished the last few minutes of silent company, enjoying it and impatiently waiting for it to end in equal measure. 

“Just pull over by the billboard, I’ll part the truck properly later.” It would probably be a few days before he would be able to summon the motivation to do so but Robbie didn’t care. The truck would keep. 

Sportacus remained oddly silent. There are now visible bags under his eyes, and blond hair peeked out from under the hero’s ridiculous blue hat, washed out in the cool evening light. He parked the car by the curb and sat quietly, his eyes still fixed at some point beyond the windshield.

“Will you be okay?” Sportacus asked, Robbie noticed that the finger tapping had stopped. “Is it alright for you to be alone in your home tonight?” 

“Yeah.” Robbie responded. “I’ll be fine.” He was not supposed to sleep without supervision but he planned to anyway. It was just a precaution and his concussion had been declared  _ relatively minor _ by the overtired nurse who had examined him. 

Sportacus didn’t seem convinced.

“If I’m in trouble you’ll know about it.” Robbie had to admit that the hero’s nosy magic crystal was good for something. If only that it would allow him some space while he recovered.

Beside him Sportacus sighed, looking downcast. Robbie had the ridiculous thought that somehow he’d really done it. For once in his life he’d been part of something that had defeated Sportacus. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that clashed with the mild sense of victory that accompanied it. 

“Hey Sportaflop...” he said, speaking before he had the chance to think anymore. “Thank you for bringing me to the hospital. I did need the help.” The admission was even more bitter, but the hero perked up immediately. He wasn’t quite smiling, but he looked less like he wanted to sink through the floor and for some reason Robbie counted that as a win. 

When had this all become so complicated? 

“You’re welcome Robbie.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading my incomprehensible jumble, this was initially supposed to be funny but it ended up being sad


End file.
